


Support

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Episode Related, Gap Filler, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-13
Updated: 2004-05-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 02:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A gap filler for episode #218.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

When I heard the elevator making its not-so-quiet ascent to our floor I knew he was finally home. 

I sigh with relief because I ache to see him. We were only in the same room together last night for five minutes while I threw my laundry from my trip in the hamper and he mindlessly fucked that ugly twink. That guy really wasn’t that hot. Brian knew I’d be home around then too. He knew when the return plane tickets were; he knew about what time I’d walk in to the loft. He planned every second of it; even if he’d never admit it…even to himself. Somewhere deep in the pits of his intricate, steel-trap of a mind the wheels turned when he brought that one back to our loft. Some little voice deep down inside him told him to fuck him in our bed, facing the door, slow enough to last until I got there to witness the show. And a show it was. If he wanted to hurt me, he did…a little.

It isn’t anything I wouldn’t expect, but part of me was waiting to run into his arms when I got back from Vermont. Tell him I missed him, tell him I love him, tell him I wish he’d been there. Because I had so badly thought those things and wished those things. But, the moaning trick kept my lips sealed. I left and went to Michael’s to tell he and Ben about my trip. They were happy to see me; I didn’t even mention how I’d found Brian. Not that it would shock or upset them. I think a little part of Mikey still takes pleasure in Brian treating me the way he would any other fuck. But, I’m not. I’m really not.

He crosses the loft behind where I sit at my art table, formerly a place to eat meals. He’s home late I tell him. He got a new campaign he tells me. I congratulate him and wait for him to volley my conversation back to me. Ask me about my day, tell me he missed me since I’ve been away. Surely he missed the sex, missed my presence, missed my smell and my touch and my love. Didn’t he?

I wait, but for nothing. I start mocking a conversation in my best Brian-voice. He seems to not notice what I’m doing. It’s such a loud cry for attention I might as well be screaming. He undresses partially and then bounds out of the bedroom toward me. “Who the hell are you talking to?” I shouldn’t be hurt or surprised by the comment, yet somehow I am both. “No one.” He quickly adds, “And what’s with the little voice?” He pops a beer, “Are you planning to become a ventriloquist?” He kneels next to me and I say more quietly to him, with a face that reveals how I really feel, “That’s one way to hear what you want.”

What I want to hear is a real conversation. Something normal, something tangible, something meaningful. I know it’s too much to ask, but I’m starting to believe it shouldn’t be. Sliding his soft fingers in the hair at the base of my neck, mimicking a ventriloquist controlling his dummy (and there is irony in that) he asks me how my trip was. I respond softly as I stroke his hair, “Not much fun without you.”

He drops his eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going?” I sigh at this, as if I needed to tell him. As if he would have joined me.

“I didn’t think you cared.” He looks pensive for a moment, almost like he wants to scold me for even thinking he didn’t care…and I wish he would.

But, pulling his latest campaign in front of us as a representation of all things job related, he simply says, “I had things to do.” And so did I.

“Did you miss me?” My voice cracks and my heads turns swiftly away. I wince at my own idiocy. Don’t ask the question if you can’t handle the answer Justin, or the complete lack of one. Fuck…

Brian

Did I miss him? I fucking missed him every second. I’d never tell him how I slept alone every night, I stayed in almost every night, I went to bed early and I dined alone. I waited for him to come home early because he missed me. I found myself watching the door at the most bizarre of moments. If he hadn’t fucking walked in when I was fucking that kid from Woody’s he wouldn’t be acting this way now. So unsatisfied with me, so unsure of what we have. Justin doesn’t need to ask me if I missed him. He has to know that I did.

I stop dead in my tracks when the words leave his lips. They hit me in the gut and make my breath pause. I do an about face and watch the back of his head. I can see the skin on his neck tense. He wish he hadn’t asked the question. He knows he won’t hear what he wants. I’m not going to gush and tell him how badly I wanted him here. I’m not going to wail and say I wished I’d been with him. I’m not going to tell him how eerily quiet the loft is without him here. How cold and empty our bed is without him in it. I won’t tell him how every time I brushed my teeth I stared at the empty space in the holder where his toothbrush should have been. Absolutely none of those things will pass my lips. Because he shouldn’t fucking need to hear them.

I’ll show him how much I missed him…kneeling close to him gave me a raging hard on. Smelling his hair, his skin, his breath…it made me want to grab him and hold him and kiss him and taste him and feel his body close to mine again. I missed every inch of him. I’ll show him that. That’s more than any words I could ever say would ever give him.

I walk up behind his chair and run my hands from his shoulders to his waist as I let out a deep sigh. I grab his hands that are sitting idly in his lap and pull them up over his head as a means of getting him up and out of his chair. He twists as he stands to face me. I pull him close for one long see-there-I-missed-you-you-little-twat kiss and then I shove him against the nearest object he can brace himself against: the metal support beam that helps hold the loft above our heads. I’m not about to walk 100 feet to the bed when I can take him right here. He’s been gone for a week and it’s been at least 8 days since I’ve had my dick inside of him. Those eight days seem like eight years.

Kissing the back of his neck I slide my hands up the back of his t-shirt and then rip it up off over his head. He purrs a little as he throws his arms up and I’m happy to hear he wants this. I know he’s missed my fingers as much as they’ve missed his skin. I put his hands up on the pole, showing him that I want him to brace himself. To ready himself for a nice, long fuck.


	2. Support

Pushing my body into his I kiss his shoulders a little more, bite him lightly. His entire body presses into the pole and I know the cool metal must be torturing his warm cock. Hooking my thumbs under the waistband of his pants I pull them down to pool at his ankles. I run my hands up his body. I love every inch of Justin, he’s so fucking perfect. So fucking beautiful.

My pants are all that is left between us, and they’re gone within moments. Pressing my hot skin into his he moans a little. I know he’s ready. So am I. I had a condom in my pocket (like the scouts say, always be prepared) that’s being torn open by my front teeth now. I slip it on my dick, the whole time sliding my skin against his…torturing him a little before I fuck him.

I press the tip of my dick to the base of his hole. He sucks in a deep breath and grips the pole harder. I watch his knuckles turn white and his expand. The anticipation is killing him. I’d love to tease him a while longer, make him hold that breath until he was light-headed and dizzy…but I don’t have it in me tonight. I need to be inside of him…now. Sinking in deep with a very deliberate thrust, I see him wince. He’s still so tight that it hurts him a little in the beginning with no lube, even after the millions of times we’ve done this. But that dose of pain before the pleasure makes it that much sweeter. Riding the fine line between agony and ecstasy can make sex an even more ethereal experience than it already otherwise is.

I hold myself inside of him for a long moment. I let my hand slide up his arm and lace my fingers into his where they grip the beam. I watch his right leg ride up the side of the pole, giving me more access and making it easier to pump inside of him. I drop my knees a little and start to thrust. He gasps and pushes back at me as I move in and out of him. I’m not going fast, but I’m not going slow. I want this to last for a little while. I want him to feel how much I missed him.

He backs into me even more, creating a space between the pole and his body. His head rolls back, alongside my neck. I lean around to kiss him and let my hand fall down to stroke his dick. He responds with a deep moan. I can tell he’s needing the contact of my lips, more than the contact of my dick, but it’s difficult from this position and I take my mouth away. I move my feet a little to gain more stability. He’s leaning so far back into me now I think I might fall over from the weight of us both; heavier tonight from the weight of his hurt and the weight of my guilt.

Justin

Fuck…me…this…pole…is…cold. My dick twitches and keeps hitting the cool metal, making me back away from it and into Brian’s warmth. I’m sure holding me up while he’s fucking me isn’t easy, but I’m more concerned about the well-being of my dick than of his thighs. I roll my head back against his neck in the hopes he will see I want him to kiss me. I crane my head to the side to make it even more obvious and he does lean down and brush my lips in response. It wasn’t the passion I was looking for, but it’ll do.

When I asked if he missed me, this wasn’t the answer I was looking for. This answer is good in it’s own way, very good. But, still…I need Brian to talk to me, to tell me how he feels sometimes. I’m tolerant about a lot of what goes unsaid, for instance the never-said “I Love You” that looms above us like a dark cloud the majority of every goddamned day. There are moments though, when the cloud isn’t there, when I let myself forget all the things Brian has never said and I review all the things he has. I think about what he’s done for me and meant to me. I think about how he’s saved my life in so many literal and figurative ways. For those moments I can forget the rest of it, but those moments are becoming few and far between. And even now, with him inside me, breathing in my ear, lips on my back…the cloud is dark above us, threatening a soul-rattling storm.

Brian would sooner make me come a thousand times than let me hear he missed me, and that is exactly why I need to hear it so badly. Knowing there’s no water for miles only makes you thirstier. And I thirst for him to tell me things, for words to pass his lips, for emotions to be verbalized…but he’d sooner let me die of thirst than utter one single word I want to hear.

I grip the pole tighter as his pace quickens. He laces his fingers in mine and I sigh at the sweetness and simplicity of the gesture. I’m trying to take all of the sad thoughts bouncing around my brain, making my head hurt, and kick them out. Force them to relocate somewhere else, just for a minute…just so that I can enjoy this. He’s moving in me faster now and it starts to thump inside of me…feels so good…helping me forget what’s wrong. In a way I can feel an orgasm start long before it approaches. And I focus on that and try to push everything else away.

First my blood starts to boil just a little under my skin. My temperature rises and the beads of sweat start to slide all over my skin. Racing down my spine, into the crack of my ass. Over my temples and across my lips. In between my fingers and past the backs of my knees. I start to feel my gut get full and tingly. My balls rattle with a yearn to release something deep inside. My dick twitches to the rhythm of Brian pounding inside of me. I can feel my pulse in my prostate. I can feel my breath working overtime to enter and exit my lungs. Red blotches start to bloom all over my chest. I involuntarily arch my back and curl my toes. This can go on for seconds, or minutes or hours. It all depends on the level of control I want to exercise, the amount of concentration I can grasp.


	3. Support

Tonight I have no control and I can’t possibly think about concentrating on anything except coming. I just want to feel good for a few moments. I want Brian to feel good for a few moments. I want us to feel it together.

I’m thinking it about it so hard it’s making the actual act difficult. Usually this isn’t something I have to think about at all. Brian makes it happen without any effort. But, tonight, things are different. The words he has refused to say flash in big, bold neon letters in my brain. They flash in front of me and take hold of my dick. They tell me if he doesn’t say them, they won’t let me come. Oh god, I have to ask him…

Brian

“Oh…fuck…I’m…going…to…come.” I grunt it in his ear because I know it will push him over the edge. Justin’s so into words and utterances and noises. I know how to say just the right thing to make his whole body twitch and call my name. He starts to shake a little and I can tell he’s nearly there. I grip the pole tight and he places his hands over mine this time. Just when I think he’s going to explode I feel him calm slightly. My eyes open and I watch him in front of me and then I hear him say, “Tell me you missed me.” The words are soft and sweet and pleading and pathetic. They’d make my dick go soft except I’m so fucking hard that it is an impossibility.

“Please Bri.” He whispers it again and I wonder if he’ll even be able to come if I don’t do it. Why can’t I say it? It is three fucking little words. Not unlike the three little words I’ve never been able to say to him. Maybe will never be able to say to him. But, these words are easier, they don’t hold as much value, pack as much punch, or leave such deep marks. I could say them and he’d be happy. This feeling of guilt would go away. Or would it?

I feel him shaking again, but this time I don’t think it’s because he’s about to shoot. Suddenly I feel so unlike having sex I want to pull out of him and finish this on my own. But, I can only imagine the effect that would have on this moment. That action would say more than those three stupid words every could. So I’ll say them.

I drop my lips to his left ear and they are parted, ready to give him the gift he so desperately needs. But then, as if he’s resigned to the fact I am not going to say them, Justin starts to come. He comes hard and fast and it’s almost agonizing to watch him double over and hold the beam for support. My dick is twisted and tortured by the pulsing, pulling contractions in his ass. His hot hole is begging for me to release in him, and I do. I’m honestly surprised by it. There are so many other things going on in this moment that I can hardly enjoy what’s happening. It might be the least pleasurable orgasm I’ve ever had.

 

Justin

I had to get it over with. I’d been letting myself ride on the edge for the longest time. Then I asked him, just whispered to him to tell me that he missed me. It was stupid, and not at all thought out. Somewhere in my brain a naive idiot resides who still thinks I have the power to change Brian Kinney. He stands up in there and hushes the more rational part of me who knows better. He screams at me to do things like make romantic gestures and ask Brian ridiculous questions that I know will go unanswered. He got the better of me in the heat of the moment. He thought that in the seconds before coming Brian might just be fooled into saying what I need to hear. The rational part of my brain kind of agreed with that. So I said it and then I waited.

After an agonizing pause I grabbed my dick and started to pump like a man with a mission. I knew as soon as I came he would to and I could get away from this fucking cold pole and away from his fucking cold heart. I feel dirty. I feel like a used trick. But I have no home to go to, no walk of shame down the street wearing the clothes I came in wearing last night. I live here, I sleep here, I have to be ashamed here.

He finishes shooting and pulls out of me abruptly. It’s been a long time since we parted without kissing or touching or holding. It feels empty and strange and wrong. I hear him back up. He won’t say anything now, but for once neither will I. I turn away from the pole and face him. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, I try to read what his are telling me. As usual, they’re saying nothing, just like him. I walk past him and our arms brush. I linger a moment as our skin collides, wanting him to reach out and grab me and pull me close and tell me something, anything. But the moment passes and I continue to the bathroom. I close the door and hide inside. I let the hot water from the shower wash away the warm tears running down my face.

Why do I fucking do this to myself?


End file.
